


What You're Looking For

by MidnightCity



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightCity/pseuds/MidnightCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had never planned for it to happen, but in a desert army base Colonel Clarkson and Lt.-Colonel May fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jeremy stole a peek at James' sleeping form before he put on his shirt. James was snoring happily, in his bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and socks, due to the fact that he claimed that he got cold feet all the time … even in the Syrian desert.

But it hadn't been James' almost deafening snoring that had caused Jeremy to crawl out of bed at the first sight of dawn. No, after spending almost all of his life in the armed forces, Jeremy had gotten used to every kind of snoring. The one that sounded like a chainsaw had been implanted in someone's throat – James' style – but also the one that made the sound of a tornado when someone exhaled. Jeremy knew that he could fix James' snoring by giving him a nudge and then letting him embrace Jeremy. This always seemed to help James to be comfortable, and as a result the snoring would be reduced to a few loud exhales now and then.

While James had slept comfortably holding Jeremy, Jeremy had been left alone with his thoughts. They had centred on this for a while … on them. But due to the planning of the dangerous mission that was going to happen tomorrow, he hadn't been able to take all the time he wanted. His mind had been preoccupied. But now the plans were set, and, for today at least, Jeremy's mind and heart had turned to James again.

Jeremy sighed, and in response James turned in his sleep. He was reaching for Jeremy like a child would reach for its teddy-bear, but Jeremy was no longer there. So a small frown appeared on James' face as he couldn't find him. To ensure that he wouldn't wake up, Jeremy walked up to him and kissed the top of his head. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered and ran his hand through James' short hair until he settled again.

Then Jeremy left his barrack, quietly closing the door behind him. He knew that James wouldn't worry too much if he woke up alone … there was no emergency drill, and their camp had never been attacked before. Still, Jeremy left a note behind.

“It's the little things,” his mother had always told him. “The little things are what make relationships work.”

But this … thing - god damn it, by now Jeremy had to admit that it _was_ a relationship - had never been planned. But Jeremy didn't mind it, not really. He liked it. He liked that James was sleeping in his bed, even though it was barely big enough for one of them, let alone two. It allowed Jeremy to always sleep close to James and take comfort in the warmth of his body, which helped to keep the nightmares at bay. Both of them had nightmares. After all nightmares were common for people who had been on duty for so long. At least James' and his never occurred at the same time, so one would always comfort the other, hold and ground him, tell him that what he had dreamed had either never happened or was just the past, until reality returned.

A voice broke his train of thoughts as he made his way along the buildings.

“Morning, Baker,” Jeremy replied to the guard on duty. “How are things?”

“Quiet, as usual,” she replied. Lieutenant Baker was one of the newcomers to their small camp, and she had adjusted to her new surroundings quite quickly. Even though she had the graveyard shift – and always in Jeremy's quarter of the camp – she was doing it without complaining.

“Good. I'll go for a jog, in case anyone is looking for me,” Jeremy added, as a precaution, in case James would miss the note he had left behind. Despite only having been here a short while, Lieutenant Baker knew well enough what was going, and she knew that “anyone” only ever meant Lieutenant-Colonel James May.

While Jeremy was a full Colonel and technically ranked above James, he was not his direct in-command. James belonged to a different squad and it was just as well, given that Jeremy had always made sure to never engage in anything with his own men. He liked to tell himself that he would have stuck to this rule even if James had been assigned to him, but he wasn't too sure. A small part of him had always wondered, if he wouldn't have thrown that rule out of the window just for James. And maybe he would have, but it was of no use, and so he always dismissed that train of thought.

“I will, Sir. And enjoy your run.”

“Thank you.” Jeremy turned another corner and finally reached the running track that had been established through paths between various barracks that were wider than usual. Many soldiers used those for jogging. They lead through the whole camp, and were miles long.

Jeremy started with a slow jog, still needing to wake up his muscles. He needed to think, he needed some time for himself. The whole night he had been awake, trying to force his body into sleep. But now he realized that he had to address his little demon first. James always occupied his thoughts now, and he wondered how it had even begun.

James had been among the second to last group of new soldiers. He had arrived a year ago, already battle hardened and with command presence. Jeremy had almost, just almost, requested him as his own second in command.

But he quickly saw that James was stubborn and tended to question everything. It was a good trait, but not one that Jeremy valued in his own second-in-command. He preferred to give clear, strict orders and have them carried out as instructed. Especially in high-pressure situations he couldn't use his orders being questioned. It would not have been possible to shape someone with James' experience to fit his own demands.

Jeremy wiped some sweat away, the desert always heated up quickly. But Jeremy had gotten used to the different climate. Some part was even glad that rain wasn't falling all the time as it did in Britain. Jeremy let out a deep breath and counted to three in his mind. Panting, but it was controlled, in order. Jeremy wouldn't need to think about it. Slowly, smaller worries cleared from his mind, and he focused on the main subject of his thoughts.

The decision to hand James over into a different squad hadn't stopped Jeremy from – kind of accidentally – becoming friends with Lieutenant-Colonel May. (“Jesus, that's a mouth full, just say James” - “Fine, Jeremy then.” - “I'll go with Clarkson, if you don't mind.”) James still called him Clarkson, Jeremy recalled, even now that they were more intimate. Only during their most honest moments, did a “Jeremy” cross his lips. Then, every single time, it was spoken with such softness and love, it only caused Jeremy to feel even more protective of him.

They had become friends, because Jeremy kept encountering James in his usual smoking spot. Soon they discovered that they shared similar sleeping patters. Jeremy went for a smoke every time he couldn't sleep, and he realized that he was hoping for James to be awake and smoking as well.

During these late-night smoking sessions, they shared stories about their days, and sometimes even about their lives. They discovered quickly that they both liked men in the same way, and, lucky for them, that they also liked each other in this way. After that it didn't take particularity long until they started shagging.

Jeremy had told himself that it was just sex, a way to relief all the stress from the day, and finally hand over responsibly to someone else. Jeremy had not even wanted to think about the fact that he had to trust someone in order to relax near them. He couldn't allow emotion. When they had shagged, they could even cuddle and James could stay. This way there would be no emotion involved, Jeremy lied to himself. The fact that they talked about their shit days while cuddling didn't matter. _No, there was no emotion as long as it was only shagging._ Maybe Jeremy had even believed himself, but his web of lies had fallen apart quicker than he thought possible …

Jeremy picked up a speed while running down the empty desert path. With the exception of the guards on duty, everyone was still asleep. Jeremy didn't mind. He didn't want any people around. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. It wasn't possible to leave the camp without a guard. This was perfect. This was what he usually wanted, he had always kept his thoughts to himself. He had never shared his thoughts, his fears, all the pressure from being in command … from trying to save lives, and sometimes in doing so having to end someone else's. It had always worked well for him until one day he had been unable to cope on his own.

Just one month after casually shagging James – his fuckbuddy, as soldiers called it when this thing happened even though Jeremy had never liked the word, finding it vulgar and ill-fitting for what James was to him even then –, Jeremy had returned from a failed mission. Utterly failed. They had been sent out on a planned mission to free hostages. But their plans had been leaked, and so he and his men had walked right into an ambush. Two of his men were shot, and one succumbed to the wounds on site. On top of the guilt, Jeremy had been hit by the image of the hostages – all of them dead. They had been bound, and beaten, the women had been raped. This wasn't what Jeremy had joined the army for; he had gotten one of his men killed and another injured, and worse, he had failed. Civilians had suffered terrible deaths. The soldiers on both sides had signed up for the job – well aware of the risks - but civilian casualties were the thing that Jeremy wanted to stop, not see happening because of him!

Upon returning to camp, he had pushed past everyone, even ignoring his Brigadier. He hadn't been able to give a report. Not now. He couldn't do any of this any longer. Under the shower, he had desperately tried to get the blood off his hands and face. He hadn't been able to breathe and tried his best to hold back any tears. He had retired to his room, trying to keep things together, and then he had heard a knock. Shortly afterwards he had felt James' arms around him, and Jeremy had begun to let all the sadness and anger out. He had shouted, and cried, and even tried to lash out, but James hadn't back away once. Instead he had stayed the night to hold him and comfort him. In the morning, Jeremy had discovered that he felt able to breathe again.

That night, when Jeremy had felt lost and like he was breaking, he had chosen to trust James. James had chosen that Jeremy was more than just a nice fuck, that he cared for him and wanted to be there. After this, things between them had changed. James stayed every night – excluding the ones either of them was on a mission. They still shagged, but even that was different. It was gentle, loving, and Jeremy discovered how much joy he derived from exploring James' body. While Jeremy had seen the scar on James' thigh before, he had never asked where it came from until now. They told each other childhood stories, where they grew up – as it turned out not far from each other -, they talked about music, movies, beer, wine, and cars. They were honest, and soon a tight bond had formed between them. One that never seemed to shatter. They were complicated men, with very different ways to express things but somehow it worked. Somehow they understood each other.

But relationships between soldiers were still forbidden, it clouded the moral. How could you send your loved one to their death? It didn't really matter that they were men; homosexuality hadn't been a reason for discharge for over a decade now. Casual shagging was chosen to be ignored, but an actual relationship with love, caring, and emotion ... Those relationships were frowned upon and often enough reason to post two people at the opposite ends of the world. So Jeremy and James _had_ to be careful. James' squad knew where he spent the night, but they kept quiet. A squad was like family after all. Jeremy's squad was also aware of this, and be it due to respect or fear, they never mentioned it either …

Somehow, it had become an open secret. But they still couldn't run around holding hands. It was better kept between their four walls, it shouldn't influence the military life. James and Jeremy also had a golden rule: their relationship could not influence their duties. It wasn't allowed. It was a fine line to walk on, but after Jeremy was among the commanding officers who had had to reprimand the Lieutenant-Colonel because he had disobeyed a direct order, James had learned to walk this line perfectly. That same night he and James had talked about it. Jeremy couldn't make an exception for him. James didn't want him to either. After a night of sulking, James had crawled into Jeremy's bed and complained that the “arse, Colonel Clarkson, shit on me.” Jeremy had laughed, cuddled closer and replied, “I heard he has the reputation of being heartless.” It was true, that was Jeremy's reputation, but he was proud of it.

Some part of Jeremy always became deeply sad when he thought about their future. Even now, running between the blocks, he still did. Jeremy bit his lip and shook his head, trying to force himself to keep on running without slowing down.

 _What kind of future could they possibly have?_ Jeremy had been married once. It had failed bitterly because he had never been home. When he was sent away it was often for half a year until he could return for a few weeks. He had tried to secure a different command post, one in Britain for the sake of his marriage. But soon he had become restless, he became unhappy, almost depressed. They chose to divorce. Francie had wanted a man who stayed with her and could raise a family. Jeremy's nature didn't allow him to sit still.

And James and he? What kind of a future did they have? There was always the risk of being posted somewhere else as soon as they were found out. Even though during a quiet night they had promised each other that they would do anything to stay together … It wasn't much of a future. The only way for them to be open, and still stay close together, was to leave the army. Neither of them seemed to be willing to do this for now. They didn't mind being secretive about their relationship in order to stay.

All this uncertainty should have made sure that they would never promise each other that they'd stay together. Or it should have stopped James from telling Jeremy that he loved him. As always, James had been in his room; they had been sharing a cup of tea and talking about their days. The conversation had gone quiet and Jeremy had taken a look out of the window. Then James had told him, it was a simple statement, as if he would tell him that his favourite colour was blue. Jeremy had stared ahead helplessly, not able to say three simple words in return. He felt the same, he knew that he did, but he hadn't been able to say it.

What Jeremy hated the most about this was that James had understood him. James had taken him in his arms and told him that he should take his time. Jeremy had only reassured him that he also returned “those feelings.” He truly did. But “I love you” wasn't anywhere near his lips. A mental block was in place around those particular words. All the feelings were there, but saying it out loud … what would it mean?

This question had kept Jeremy awake this past night. James had told him months ago that he loved him but had never repeated those words since then. Jeremy guessed that it was because James didn't want to bring Jeremy into an awkward situation. But Jeremy knew that the meaning still held true. The only reason he had been kept awake was because somewhere in the back of his mind something was chipping away at the mental block.

He wanted to tell James that he loved him too; with all of his heart. God, but it would rip Jeremy open, it would make him so fucking vulnerable. He had never allowed that to happen, not even with Francie. He didn't doubt that James would tread carefully. That he would never step onto his beating heart until it bled and stopped. That even if they failed, James would let him down gently.

He wanted to tell James. Jeremy wanted James to know. He wanted James to hear those words. The first time he had felt the urge to do so had been a week ago. He had watched James rant about a young soldier in his squad. Afterwards James had sat down on Jeremy's bed, crossed his arms and let out a huff of air. In doing so, a lock of his hair had blown up. Jeremy had found it utterly adorable, both the ranting and the awry lock of hair. Jeremy had opened his mouth to reply, but he soon realized that what he actually wanted to say was _I love you._ He wanted James to know. But something stopped him, there was a mission to be planned, it occupied both of them. Instead, Jeremy had laughed, and James had thought that he had humoured him, when in reality Jeremy had been laughing at himself, at how fucking stupid he was. The mission was important, and now Jeremy wanted to tell James? Not the best timing, but most of all Jeremy hadn't wanted it to be some half sleepy mutter which could be misunderstood.

Jeremy slowed down as he returned to his part of the camp. He would walk the rest of the way, knowing his body needed time to cool down. He had to tell James. Even if their future was uncertain. Even if it was unlikely that they'd ever own a pub together when they'd be old and fat, as they had jokingly planned on doing. James deserved to know. Jeremy wanted it to be … not perfect, but at least good. He wanted James to sit on their bed – like he always did – and Jeremy would take his hand in his and tell him that he loved him too. James would most likely crack a joke that it was about time Jeremy said this. Then they'd hug, and Jeremy would feel a comfortable warm feeling spread from his belly across his whole body. One he felt when he just thought about it. Yes, that would be perfect.

Jeremy nodded to Baker, and returned to his place to get a towel and shampoo. James was still dozing, but he opened his eyes slightly when Jeremy walked in. His hair pointed in all directions and he looked utterly adorable. “Hey, there,” Jeremy whispered and sat on the floor next to him. He kissed the top of James' head, and then his lips.

“You are sweaty,” James whispered, smiling.

“I went for a run.”

“Still enough left for something lazy and comfortable?” James asked and pulled on his shirt a bit.

Jeremy got the idea and let James guide him on top of his body. “I am sure I can manage.” He peppered James' face with small kisses until their lips finally met. Something told Jeremy that he should tell James right now, but he didn't listen and focused on James' little gasps, and James' hands fumbling for his shirt instead.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy chose to tell him after their mission. He didn't want this mission to over-shadow his statement of undying love. He wanted to say it when both were comfortable, not when they were lying next to each other just one night away from the mission, wondering if their plan would work out … Jeremy had wished James good luck, and a save return the same morning in bed. By the time they were getting ready James and Jeremy were nothing more than collogues

Jeremy's, James', and Brian's squads were leading a mission to rescue hostages from a ruined house. The intel had been double checked, and there were risks, but they would have each other's back.

A few hours later, the three squads stormed the building. They wanted to get the civilians out as fast as possible and split into groups, searching every room, never alone. Then Jeremy heard gunshots. Brian's team reported six armed men, three of which they had managed to disarm.

Jeremy confirmed, as he headed for an almost dark room. He could hear a child crying. He knew that his team member must be close behind and would give him cover, so he entered the room.

“Kid?” Jeremy called out. Then he heard gunshots again. Jeremy yelped, feeling like a cat had painfully bitten his thigh. Then his whole leg gave out under him. He fell to the floor, grunting, while something warm slowly ran down his clothes. _Blood,_ he realized. He had been shot. “Fuck.”

Jeremy had never been shot. He had always assumed that it would hurt like hell. Instead his body protected him from the pain, from the first shock. Only slowly, very slowly, did the pain begin to creep up. It started as a dull ache, and then Jeremy could swear that he was able to feel the hole which the bullet had torn through his leg.

 _I should have told him,_ Jeremy thought. _I shouldn't have waited. I love James. I should have told him. Why didn't I tell him sooner?_

He screamed in pain. Fuck, he hoped that his other team members were all right, and that this wouldn't fail as badly as other missions had. Though, lying on the floor and feeling the blood slowly seep out of the wound, he knew that his was rather unlikely. He had failed again, not only in the mission, in everything. He hadn't told James, why hadn't he? Jeremy felt his eyes well up and curled in a ball.

 _I should have told James that I love him,_ was the last thing he thought before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Jeremy became aware of was the pain. Not from his leg, but from the bright light being shone into his eyes. Someone had forced them open, and Jeremy just wanted to shout, but he couldn't even move. His whole body felt heavy, and his leg felt numb, like someone had replaced it with a piece of driftwood.

What had even happened? Jeremy wondered for a moment.

Then he let his eyes fall shut again. He didn't want to think …

 

* * *

 

Jeremy heard a loud curse the next time he came around, and he could barely open his eyes. So he didn't even try … what was the point? He didn't want to. He heard a woman's voice and then felt a a sharp instrument being inserted in his leg – maybe a needle. Felt more like a knife. The pain was excruciating! More than the bullet … _Bullet? Yes, you've been shot, remember?_

Jeremy didn't remember.

He screamed instead.

 

* * *

 

The next thing Jeremy recalled was how quiet the world had become. There was a soft and constant beeping sound. Regular. Like a heartbeat. He also heard voices, they seemed distant, as if Jeremy was listening to them via radio. But he recognized one. It was Doctor Aaronovitch, he dealt with Jeremy's medical exams. Jeremy trusted him with everything.

But he didn't sound like usual, he was talking in a low and quiet voice. _What had gone wrong?_ Jeremy wondered for a moment. Something catastrophic must have happened for him to talk in such a hushed voice. Jeremy couldn't help it, he immediately thought of James. Did something happened to James? Had James been injured and Jeremy had forgotten? No, James needed to be safe! But the doctor didn't mention any names, instead he mentioned a fever, and a possible infection.

Luckily, Jeremy heard James' voice next, and maybe a small smile formed on Jeremy's lips. James was fine. James said that he was strong.

_Who?_ Jeremy wondered.

“Give Clarkson a little more time before sending him home.”

_What?_ Then he fell asleep again.

  
  


* * *

 

James' voice was a constant. He didn't sob, or cry, or beg Jeremy to wake up. Instead he read to Jeremy. Jeremy missed most parts of the book, but from time to time he picked up on it. One time, Jeremy even managed to open his eyes. He was dimly aware of the camp's hospital room, and he could see James holding his newest Jack Reacher novel in his hands.

Jeremy smiled. James looked towards him for a moment, and then stopped mid-sentence.

“Hey,” James whispered and put the book aside.

_But no,_ Jeremy wanted to protest, but his mouth was dry and he could barely keep his eyes open. _I want you to keep reading._

James gently ran his hand through Jeremy's hair, and cupped his cheek, his thumb caressing Jeremy. “You're doing better.”

_Maybe,_ Jeremy wanted to agree, but instead he closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer.

  
  


* * *

 

“Ouch, shit,” was the first thing Jeremy mumbled after waking up.

Shortly after, he heard James laugh in response. “Leave it to you to come back with those heroic words.”

Jeremy turned his head and saw James sitting on a chair next to his bed. Jeremy could spot lines harder than usual on James' face, and it looked like he hadn't slept in a few days. James put a piece of paper aside. _Had he been writing something, a letter? Maybe a report?_ Jeremy didn't even know how long he had been out. It was a blur.

But he noticed how the stress seemed to slowly lift from James' stiff shoulders. That James let out a long breath before he bent forward, and handed Jeremy a cup of water. He had to help him take a few careful sips.

“Thanks.”

James kissed the top of his head, and Jeremy automatically assumed that it meant they were alone.

“Do you remember what happened?” James asked carefully as he took Jeremy's hands between his.

Jeremy racked his brain and gave James' hand a squeeze. “I got shot,” he simply replied. Then another memory floated back, a strong emotion, regret. _I should have told him!_

“Yeah, leg. It's still on,” James explained helpfully.

“I sort of noticed that.” With his free hand he reached for the cup again, and drank without help this time.

“Listen, Jeremy, I have to get the doctor,” James began ruefully. “I told him I'd get him as soon as you're awake.”

“Yeah, go,” Jeremy replied easily and let go of James' hand.

“Do you need anything?” James asked as he got up.

Jeremy opened his mouth. _Tell him now. Tell him! You love him! He's still here and most likely saw you shit yourself while you were passed out!_ Instead Jeremy shook his head, not now. “Water.”

James smiled. Jeremy could tell that he pitied him a little. But Jeremy let it slide, he could even understand it. Normally Jeremy was strong, commanding, and even calculated – that was how he had earned his reputation of being heartless. But James could see this side of Jeremy, it was all right …

While the doctor was checking over Jeremy's wound, James had to leave for a briefing. Jeremy told him not to worry before Jeremy answering Doctor Aaronovitch's questions to the best of his abilities, as it turned out he had been passed out for a week, the wound had infected slightly and if Jeremy hadn't fought so hard and bitterly, they would have had to send him back to Britain. But the way things looked now, Jeremy could heal in the camp, near James. Aaronovitch added that James had stayed all the time. Jeremy didn't mind, he trusted this man with everything, even with James.

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the following week, Jeremy recovered well. He didn't sleep for half the day any longer and read the passages of the Jack Reacher novel that he had missed due to not being awake. James visited him regularly, and as a joke had adopted the habit of always bringing him a glass of water. This was the desert after all, flowers were not available.

Jeremy even managed short walks without a stick. A little nip to the loo was easily done. The bullet hadn't been a through-and-through, Lieutenant Baker had been closest and had had to dig it out with a knife. Jeremy swore that he vaguely remembered it …

It had been the right thing, otherwise Jeremy might have lost his leg. But now he had been promised that he would make a full recovery. Only a scar would remain.

Jeremy heard someone clear his throat and looked up from his book. James was walking towards him and put a glass of water on his bed-side table. “You're an arse, you know that?” Jeremy asked as he smiled warmly at him.

“I have been made aware of that, Colonel,” James replied.

Jeremy pointed to the edge of the bed and James sat down.

“How are you?” James asked.

“Better. Much better.”

“Your face has regained some colour,” James stated.

Jeremy nodded. He crossed his legs to make more room on the bed. It caused a brief wince, but as soon as he sat still it didn't hurt any longer.

“There's something I wanted to tell you,” Jeremy began quietly. He put his book aside and looked around, from where he sat he couldn't see anyone. “Are we alone?”

When James confirmed it, Jeremy took his hand, running his thumb over the surface. His knuckles were dry, but what did Jeremy expect … he still loved those wonderful hands.

“I wonder if I should start with a great speech,” Jeremy was talking more to himself than to James.

James laughed and shook his head. “Just come out with it.”

“I love you.”

For a moment, James froze. He obviously hadn't expected that. Jeremy stared at him for a moment and then looked at the floor. _Shit,_ maybe he had done it wrong. Maybe James' feelings had changed since James had said those words.

“Jezza.” James very rarely called him like that, even rarer than Jeremy. His voice was so soft while uttering it. “Look at me.”

He slowly did as James had asked, and what he saw then was wonderful. James was smiling softly at him, in fact all his facial features had softened. Jeremy knew that a small bit of worry hid in there, worry that Jeremy wouldn't understand it. But Jeremy did. He had done nothing wrong. James loved him, he still loved him. Jeremy tried very hard to bite back an idiotic smile. But despite himself, he also felt his eyes well up. He could never have guessed how happy it could make him to be able to say these simple words to James, and how much it would mean for James to return the feeling.

“You have a tendency to choose the best moments,” James laughed and shuffled to him. He took Jeremy in his arms, running a hand along his back. “After you've been fucking shot by a scared kid! Jesus, Jezza! I love you too. You know that.”

Jeremy closed his eyes, and let one, two, three tears quietly fall. He nodded. “I wanted to wait for the perfect moment, but when I lay there … Fuck, there is no such thing.”

James kissed the top of his head.

“But as long as you're somewhere near me, it's good. That is … well, enough for me,” Jeremy mumbled into his shirt. “Fuck perfect. We've seen enough to know that it doesn't exist.”

“' _Good_ ' is good too?” James asked, snorting slightly.

Jeremy pulled back and laughed, feeling more tears form. “Yeah.” James cupped his face and wiped the tears away with his thumb.

“You know, let me be sentimental,” James began.

“Be my guest.”

“This world is shit, you choose crap moments, I do too, and what the hell were and are we thinking to do any of this,” James muttered and shook his head. “And yes, you're right, there aren't any perfect moments for us, not in this environment, and I don't even think that they exist in civilian life, but … Jeremy, I have seen enough to know that this – what we have - is perfect.”

Jeremy smiled brightly and kissed him.

“Please don't ask me to top this with some fancy speech.”

“Why not? Yours will be _The world is poo, but not so much when I'm with you.”_

Jeremy cuddled into James' chest, enjoying the warmth, the comfort. Then he mumbled, “Stop stealing my ideas.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual "aid" inspired me to write this piece; [Jez in a military uniform](https://www.instagram.com/p/BDr_AsKrTyH/) is very helpful. 
> 
> Edit (14.05.16): The wonderful [sovotchka](http://sovotchka.tumblr.com/) drew a picture which was inspired by this piece of fiction. (fan-fanart?) You should all check it out and give it a like [here](http://sovotchka.tumblr.com/post/144308581445/inspired-by-what-youre-looking-for-by)


End file.
